“You will begin to forgive when you understand the many ways in which the world has killed those who try to survive it.”
“We’re not evolving emotional filters fast enough to deal with the efficiency with which bad news now reaches us”
It’s easy to lose hope these days. Especially when one gets themselves sucked into the cycle of rage and the restorative labour necessary in nation building. When looking around yields nothing but stories of stolen money, unnecessary projects, rises in taxes and a debt problem we are yet to solve it hard to start calculating positive outcomes.
It becomes even easier when you begin to notice that the people who are supposed to be fixing those problems are often the major cause of the problems, and those who stand up to “fight the good fight” turn on the people in the end.
Eventually, we get tired of throwing ourselves at the windmill over and over again. And the pain that we carry from the numerous battles we fight carry on into the next one. In this state of rage fatigue, it’s easy to lose sight of the cause and begin to lash out.
“Part of the privilege of a privileged identity is being insulated from things that people who don’t have it often face. A shadow of that is immediately checking their tone when they express their truth.”
When dealing with intersectionality it is important that we are able to organize bodies into groups. The way a body is perceived will often define the experience the body is allowed to have. To go against this experience is to have your body act in ways that people do not expect from bodies like yours. To have a large intimidating body is to work extra towards not being seen as aggressive. To have a smaller, frailer frame is to work extra towards being seen as capable of aggression, and so forth.
I use the word body very particularly because it speaks to something that one largely has no jurisdiction over. Modern science allows us to change our bodies to fit our perception of ourselves rather than the ever moving shadows of how other’s perceive us. This is particularly helpful for those who are most affected by this discrepancy in identity but these operations are still far outside the financial and imaginative reach of the general population.
And bodies speak in many ways, most of which are involuntary – or at least impulsive. They fold, they turn away, they swell, they shiver and so forth and so forth. Tongues fail to form letters properly, shaping language that points to a history. A history that tells a story of class, of tribe, of upbringing. Faces show echoes of who your people are.
“Babiness signals a beingness in place. To call oneself a babi in Kenya is to declare one untouchable. To ask, “Mta’do?” Without the arrogance of Kenya’s political class. Without the violence of a country at war with its own. It is to say, “I am telling you this, and I am aware of the risk I take with an articulation of this kind but I am not afraid. Because I have no reason to be afraid”. It is to say, in many ways that even within one’s vulnerability (because there’s an ever-present vulnerability embodied in queerness) one’s body is not available to the violence it attracts if unbabied. Also, it is to say, “You might not like what I am telling you about me right now but you are going to have to listen to me because babiness is listened to in this country”.
In this way there is no running away. What this means is that, no matter how much you do, your body will be recognized as your body. And whatever memory your body evokes will be how you are seen, which will affect how people relate to you, depending on their own relationship with that memory. And how you relate to that perception will create the image that people have of you (perhaps this is what we mean when we say step into your power – navigate your perception with knowledge of that landscape).
Those who do the work of remembering take notes on bodies. These bodies carry violence. These bodies carry deceit. These have a tendency towards shame. These ones are not to be trusted.
It hit me yesterday that I have been, for a long time, uncomfortable with my identity as a Kikuyu man and what comes with it. Because that identity has been translated to me as an abuser, as competition, not just by other Kikuyu, but by everything.
The rise of identity politics brings more significance to this. In order for identity to exist there must be a body to be identified. Bodies are the markers of identity. And of course we remember. And, in a time like this, it’s easy to lose hope. For the bodies themselves to become the enemy, to lash out in the name of calling out. To forget the collective labour of undoing, unearthing and pursuing to better each other and focus on the destruction.
But the truth is indifferent.
The truth just is. It bears no ill will, it carries nothing with it other than itself. And in knowing this, we know what to listen to when trying to hear the truth and know how much of ourselves is between what we are trying to say and what the truth is.
“We need stories of belonging that move us towards each other, not from each other; ways of being human that open up the possibilities of being alive together; ways of navigating our differences that deepen our curiosity, that deepen our friendship, that deepen our capacity to disagree, that deepen the argument of being alive. This is what we need. This is what will save us. This is the work of peace. This is the work of imagination.”
- Krista Tippet, On Being
Perhaps in seeing how far away we are from each other, buried by whatever blindnesses surviving in our bodies lived experience imposed upon us, we can begin the work of moving together, towards unburdening, untangling and rebuilding the systems of perception that oppress us all, creating new truths and, possibly, hope.
You cannot see it
but the jacaranda trees are flowering
each blossom an insurgent
against the sameness of life
Soon the streets will be a revolution of colour
suffused with a tangible tenderness
Fight, grandma, fight
It’s worth the struggle
to witness next season’s lilac uprising.
- Phyllis Muthoni
It’s September and the Jacarandas are in bloom. On twitter, #JacarandaPropaganda has already started making its way to the top trends. We own this tree and we hold it close as a testament to the beauty of the country.
Native to Brazil and Argentina, jacaranda is the name of a genus with about 50 different species of trees with a wide range of flower colours. The name Jacaranda comes from a Native American Tupi word “yacarana” or “yacaranda” which which the Portuguese spell with a J. On twitter #JacarandaPropaganda has already started
But what do you see when you look at the Jacaranda?
The spread of the Jacaranda is largely attributed to Allan Cunningham who came across the tree on one of his many travels before reporting its existence to the queen. They were first imported to Zimbabwe(then Rhodesia of sorts) by British settlers after which they found their way around the continent.
Despite pulling in a significant amount of Japanese tourism, there was still a long debate about cutting a number of them down in 2012. The reason was that their root system was too invasive and their high water intake prevented anything else from growing.
You know that
you carry their history.
But you also know
you don’t carry their scars.
And that, you hope,
will make all the difference.
When I was a child (Lol at was – I am still children) I loved trying to catch the Jacaranda flowers before they hit the ground. There was one particular tree where we used to go to church. I spend a lot of time under this tree, waiting for a gust of wind to catch the branches and release a few more flowers, which we would use to wish.
Our wishes never came true, but that didn’t stop us.
“And this common ground is necessary. The political winds of the West are calling them to consolidation of their political power – towards nationalism. From a purely timing perspective, this would not be the time to destroy the marriage that is Kenya. To do that would be to break the power (that we have only just began to understand we have) as a country and leave smaller vulnerable ethnonation. To allow ourselves to be led by and towards our differences it to play right into the idea of divide and conquer.
So instead we find ourselves with decolonisation. Slowly analyzing and comparing pasts, asking for permission – negotiating for ways to keep our identities alive. Does this one work for you? How about you? What if we keep this one, and let that other one go?”
I’ve written here about institutional memory before and how it works in relation to the philosophies that govern the not-so-august house that is the Kenyan parliament. Especially when held in relation to the labour of decolonisation. The work of decolonisation calls for us to go into ourselves work towards erasing internalised racism, sexism et al.
I remember the Jacaranda as the tree that filled my childhood with mystery. I remember Moi’s era as a time with free milk. Those with longer memories remember when Moi over-borrowed in the 80s and the IMF restrictions that followed. Those with even longer memories speak of a Kenya that worked on some level. They speak with nostalgia about working hospitals and not needing to lock their door in the evening. They speak of an education system that all but guaranteed labour and a time when the country’s zeitgeist was full of hope. But they also remember the struggle, the death and pain that came with the strife for this freedom. Memory is vastly unreliable as a way to record history – but it was the only tool available to those not allowed to record their own.
And through this lens – what do we remember?
“It is not forgetfulness, but the state in which it is deemed necessary or at least desirable to go through a process of forgetting.
The kind of forgetting in forgetingness is not a mere slipping away from memory, but rather a process of extraction from being.
Through this process, issues and people are washed clean of their identity and significance.”
I ask because the history I studied reads like a series of tragedies and defeats. Of suppressions and executions, of disappearances and whispers. We move from independence to a coup, from a coup to the struggle for multipartyism to the silencing of Moi to the corruption and scandals that followed.
Where are the stories of my grandfather standing under a jacaranda tree, wishing on a blossom for the love of his life to look his way? Where are the stories of the young and hopeful and how they managed to make their way to establishing a life for themselves and their families? Even as we do the work of looking at our history and taking apart its invasive roots, where are the falling flowers that the child in me might catch one and wish for a better future?
“We are doing these things because, if you look at the budget for this year, revenue- in the best scenario is going to be about 1.3 trillion shillings… on your budget, the first claim to budget interest – 400 billion, salaries close to 500 billion, pensions 100 billion – that’s a trillion. You now have three hundred left, do you transfer to counties or do you finance the current budget for the national government – that is your dilemma.”
- Kenya is Broke, David Ndii
“Perhaps it would be prudent for us to look at our country’s problem as an economic one rather than a political one.” I don’t know where I heard or saw this quote, but it was somewhere over the last fortnight – and it stayed with me. Maybe it’s because somewhere after that we have the 30% fuel tax being implemented, one that will see the price of, well, everything go up.
“On paper, the VAT Act 2013 will increase revenue for the government, but in reality, it will wildly distort the market. The cost of running a Kenyan household has increased exponentially – food, water, electricity and cooking fuel have become very expensive. Since the cost of building materials has also increased, shelter has become costly. Transport is set to become more expensive with the introduction of VAT on passenger vehicles with a capacity of over 25 persons, as well as the impending increase in fuel prices. Since the cost of doing business has increased, unemployment could be a possible consequence as businesses reduce members of staff to cut costs. How will people afford to live with such high prices if they are unemployed?”
– Brenda Wambui, Death by VAT
There are many metaphors that demonstrate the absurdity of a nation trying to tax its way out of poverty – I will neither bore, nor confuse you with new ones. It becomes particularly stifling to new businesses (already struggling to raise revenue to run whatever business type processes they need to). This means that fewer people are employed – and there’s less money circulating in the economy (wasn’t this what the taxes were supposed to do?)
Somehow, according to PwC, casino betting alone is set to bring in about KES 2.5 billion in this same environment. Sportpesa have annual sponsorships of up to 15 billion shillings, and this is not even counting the several other betting platforms that have come up over the last couple of years. Estimates have the gambling industry in the country at being worth about KES 400 billion.
Walk by any pub over the weekend and you will hear heated debates about odds, probabilities and possible outcomes. Most of the sports betters I spoke to have two or three apps, betting in different combinations to ensure a favourable outcome on the other side of a game – no matter who wins.
“On average each session lasts for about five minutes which translates to an estimated Sh50-200 daily and about Sh5, 000 monthly spend on mobile data alone. “Most gamers will access varied betting platforms at least once a day, to either place a bet or track ongoing matches. This in itself, and not at all associated to any winnings, is a deterrent to many regular gamers,” Ms Gikonyo says.”
- Luke Mulunda, A nation of gamblers
On one hand, gambling is a problem. It often comes paired with substance abuse and mental health issues. A geopoll study showed that Kenyan Youth are betting with higher frequency than any of their African counterparts.
What I see here is a mass of Kenyans, willing to take calculated risks with their disposable (or, non disposable but riskable none the same) income, with the chance of the money generating more – usually over a short period of time.
Perhaps we should look for a way to channel that money to solve our economic problems.
The NYSE trades about 1.46 billion shares every day, and is home to some 2,800 companies ranging from blue chips to new high growth companies. The NSE, on the other hand, is home to 65 companies – and the data on how many shares are traded daily is scarce.
So to say that we have an active bourse might be a slight overstatement.
What’s more, availability of shares has been a long-standing problem on the exchange, with some people complaining about being unable to get the shares they want for days on end. And, in the absence of a market-making player, a large number of sales end up not being actualized.
But this won’t stop us from dreaming. Moving this capital (what was it? 400 bil? We can just move 200) to the exchange would mean companies have a little more wiggle room. Already there are people analyzing the difficulty in buying and trading in the country and coming up with simpler tools in a bid to woo the market. The NSE app automatically connects to your CDS account for easy trading. Abacus doesn’t have in app trading, but is great for staying informed of what is happening, and what might affect your portfolio.
This is not to say that we don’t have a ways to go before real time active trading is a thing (and let’s not even begin to talk about investor security and trust issues that need to be overcome. Rather – it is to look at fuel prices sitting at KES 127 and thinking – perhaps it’s time we tried something different.
by Robert Munuku
Africa has been the hub of a rich cocktail of resources from potent extractive mineral deposits to diverse tourism-attracting flora and fauna coupled with tropical climate that supports agriculture – the backbone of many Sub-Saharan African economies. Many of these economies are making major gains in growth bolstered by substantial development in information technology; this has enabled the breakdown of geographical boundaries offering more opportunities to the market mobility of goods and services.
Given how fast information is moving in the 21st century, over-reliance and dependence on commodities has shifted to focus on service provision and data dissemination. Lerato Mbele, a business journalist, puts this best when he says, “What Africa lacks in infrastructure it compensates for in character. There are natural endowments of minerals; fertile agricultural lands; virgin industrial zones; plus a proud and resilient body-politic”
It is also worth noting that ICT has been used in most sectors of the economy invariably as a vehicle to spur business growth (e.g. mobile money transfer stage as a parallel and alternative to traditional banking).
M-Pesa, for example, has enabled many Kenyans to transfer money without the need of having bank accounts and the lengthy technical procedures that come with banking. Mobile money was adopted by the other 3 telephony companies following stiff competition that the innovation posed from Safaricom which still enjoys the lion’s share of market capital. Airtel has its equivalent mobile money transfer service named Zap; Orange Telkom has Iko Pesa; and, Yu Essar has Yu-Cas. This has further widened the landscape offering Kenyans more access to the facility that is now indispensable in everyday transactions like school fees payment, payment of utility bills, business transactions among other forms of financial transactions.
And that it is such a wide variety of transactions is widens the net from which data can be captured. As a result of this, data as a virtual commodity is growing fast. The Communications Commission of Kenya (CCK) reported that 98% of the internet market share is through mobile platforms. This means that a majority of us access the internet through their mobile phones – a service one can acquire by attaining a basic feature phone that now retails as cheaply as Ksh2,000. The growth momentum was well put in a joint article by both heads of Airtel and Safaricom, “In the last quarter of 2010, something interesting happened in Africa; the number of mobile connections on the continent overtook those in Europe. There has been a ten-fold increase in coverage over the past 10 years.”
SMEs (Small to Medium-sized Enterprises) and other small business persons are now exploiting the fast growing ICT sector to market and sell their products and services across geographical boundaries.
Obstacles to growth
The major obstacle to economic progress has always been poor leadership which usually breeds corruption and hence incompetence that eventually leads to poverty (& rampant insecurity). In many countries major steps have been made towards the democratization process but a lot still needs to be done to delink leadership from patronage and big governments. This would then see the rise of strong state-run institutions and subsequent service delivery.
The private sector which forms a bulk of GDP must also be empowered and given enough room to maneuver. “Public-private partnerships between governments and ICT players are another way that the telecoms industry can positively contribute to development in Africa. It is crucial for governments to create an enabling environment through enlightened regulatory regimes and supporting infrastructure.”
Another obstacle is not that the Africas lacks the requisite resources, but rather the necessary ‘bargaining power’ that is a demand of such markets. Major steps have been made on this with many attempts at regional integration through trading blocs of old, i.e. ECOWAS, EAC, COMESA, etc, along with economic legislation such as AGOA (Africa Growth & Opportunity Act instituted in the year 2000). These trading blocs facilitate easier access to global market at the same time improving quality standards of products marketed abroad. This notwithstanding many economists feel that the blocs can do better in their mandates.
Mobile money as a financial alternative to corporate banking is but a taste of the pliable nature of data or if you will, information velocity, that have now placed us on a critical geopolitical plane.
In the words of Aly-Khan Satchu, “The 21st century is not about the money, it’s about your brain-power.”
 Africa Forbes (Mock-up Issue 2011), ABN Publishing (Pty) Ltd South Africa
Robert Mũnũku is a visual artist, writer & filmmaker based in Nairobi. Mũnũku is also the founder of Mau Mau Collective which is an organization that seeks to create a strong network of independent visual artists, filmmakers & performing artists on the continent. Follow him on Twitter @robertmunuku
“The thing about saying something is happening is that change comes to everyone in its own time. And so to say that something is happening is to forget the millions that it is yet to happen to. It is to forget those who will die before that thing happens. And if the thing that was supposed to happen doesn’t happen in time for you – then did it happen?”
It’s been particularly well known that, while Kenyan elections run on tribal math, this has always just been a narrative used by people in power to maintain their status as the ruling class. Still, tribe has been to blame for most of the problems facing Kenya’s political landscape. So much so has tribe been at the root of our problems that “tribless Kenya” is a movement hoping that, in organizing across tribal lines we can work towards a united country.
It makes sense that we can be herded around using tribe. The concept plays on our base ideas of “us” “ours” and a “sense of belonging.” (and participates in creating “them,” “theirs” and a “sense of unbelonging.”)
“In this narrative, corruption becomes a machine for the redirection of resources back to the people (idealized). Of course, in the absence of a colonial overlord, it just becomes stealing the meat from your own soup and serving it to the dogs. But institutions remember, and so corruption becomes the embedded language of the August house.”
So what happens when the tribal numbers stop making sense? When it increasingly becomes apparent that “our man” will not help us?
“When my competitors are through with(mon-sun)sponsored headlines, paid opinion polls & fake news they are welcome to the real contest based on real mwananchi issues SGR, roads, connecting people to electricity, equipping our hospital &Tivets and matters water. Nawangojea huko.”
The narrative changes.
“Siasa ya 2022 imengoa nanga (…) hii siasa si ya monarchy ukiamka asubuhi enda kwa huyu, jioni kwa huyu, kesho kwa huyu – hapana. Hata sisi maskini tutazaa kiongozi wetu maskini 2022 William Samoei arap Ruto”
It’s impossible to ignore that sanitizing effect that the defection of Mohammed Ali has on William Ruto’s character. How can you claim that a person is corrupt if the very person who was voted into government to fight corruption has aligned themselves with them? Buildings are destroyed, commissions are called, rumours are started, reports are written, life moves on – we forget about corruption.
Instead we focus on kiongozi wetu maskini.
The new narrative is the same old narrative. Just the objects that hold space of fearing the “other” have been changed. We begin to see battle lines drawn along the story of the people versus the empire.
“As three generations of firstborn sons, our childhoods couldn’t have been more different. One lived through the early years of colonialism. The next through the Emergency years. I lived through the austerity years of Nyayoism, in the dying embers of the political revolution that begun in the early 80s. Did that define our chosen crafts? From a health officer to a teacher to a writer?”
- Writing to awaken, Owaaah
It’s worth understanding why these narratives are sticky. One theory states that the independence struggle, while won, took its toll on the country. The only hope left on the other side was catching up with an ever-moving world. In this sense the goalposts shifted from self-determination to gathering resource (I imagine because it became more apparent that resource was the key to this self determination). It is from here single career stories were birthed (be a lawyer doctor engineer or embarrassment to the family). This kind of thinking thrived strongest in the Moi error where following a template and keeping your head down was a surefire way to success. But time passed and we are looking for different definitions of freedom, beyond the pursuit of capital to sustain a life that hadn’t been chosen. Increasingly people are looking for agency over their decisions and looking to where this agency will take (would have taken) them. And the gaps in infrastructure are becoming more apparent.
And the people are getting impatient (Africa is rising, why are we being left behind please?)
Juxtapose this emotion onto the landscape with dwindling tribal numbers and the stage is set for the class to thrive as a key driving story.
And it’s not that hard a story to sell. Kenyatta the first’s government systematically grabbed and redistributed resources amidst the political elite. Every government that has come after has participated, to some degree at least, in this tradition of creating wealth for the elite. And this wealth never translates into proper economic growth because it is not created with a plan or structure but rather through pilfering public funds and redirecting public resources.
So in this way, the Kenyan populace remains vulnerable to the “working president” as a narrative. Change looks like having a president who did not come from legacy and has no ties to empire to the Kenyan people because this is something we have no experience of.
Elections, however, are in 2022 and this is only 2018 – a lot can happen in 4 years. And it is impossible to say the age of political patronage is over. But it might be worth pointing out that it will not be enough to get by on “my people” alone moving forward. Already loud declarations are being made about holding the value of labour over identity so much so that the president had to say that he will not protect his brother if found guilty (he said he will, whether he will well…)
So how can the current landscape be used to the advantage of the people?
First, as already explained the narrative is strong because it is true. Kenya is long overdue a leader that is not part of empire (that leader is not the guy who stole land from a primary school or sold the country’s grain). Look around and find ways to support the leaders you think are actually working.
Second, use the narrative and circumstances to create pressure for the people currently in power. Remind them that the tribal numbers won’t help them next time and that it is the current scorecard that matters. Keep track of the things you and members of the community need done and present them to the people who need to get them done (you can email, tweet or whatever). Make sure your issues are heard – then watch for who is listening. If the battle is for who is listening to the people – then speak your truth.
“I surrender this isn’t love it’s torture”
- Hold me down
Love, or ideas of what love can be, has the ability to bring us to our knees. With our backs against the wall and confronted by the harsh truth that no one is subject to your will – that illusions of control are just that. Love, we are reminded is a battlefield for preservation of the self, in a landscape that continuously asks for compromise, for a little letting go for a little more space – just a little.
My first encounter with the album “Dreams in Stereo” happens in Eric Wainaina’s studio. I have wandered into the space on other business and Eric has just come from recording “Okay,” the opening track on the album. The song takes us to all the places we know and trust Eric to take us. Heavily layered choir like melodies over intricate piano and guitar with the trademark tenor that brought us “nchi ya kitu kidogo” immediately let’s you know one thing – you’re listening to an Eric Wainaina record.
But if love itself has the ability to bring us down to our knees then what does its absence do? At what point in the process of unraveling and bringing back together does one decide enough is enough? And, post this decision, what does it look like to put oneself decision in the absence of the person they had decided was supposed to be with them for the rest of their lives?
I miss my second encounter with the album. Having made it to the album launch I barely make it through Sage Chemutai and Tetu Shani’s great openings before a my body decides that it has had enough of my nonsense. The migraine has me in bed before Eric takes the stage.
Speaking at an interview this is what he had to say about the album,“It is an even more personal and intimate album in many ways, where I felt freer to just be myself. It also explores a wide range of musical genres that are close to my heart.”
“Nilikukosea nini, ukanichukia?”
- Don’t bury me
The tapestry takes us through a variety of sounds, with each song painting a particular place in the landscape that our attention is being drawn to. There is clear evidence of very deliberate thought about where each note is placed, where every sound effect resonates and every echo. Even when he brings other artists in, we see why they are where they are. A personal favourite is how the diverse style of John Nzenze, Kendi Nkonge and Blinky Bill come together on “don’t bury me” creating a bouncy, snappy track that moves at the everyday rhythm of life – in a song that talks about moving on, moving forward without anger or angst, but rather letting go to move forward.
“Can we fly away together, tell no one – don’t leave a number.”
- Fly away together
I spend the week after the concert streaming the album almost every day. Not only because I was supposed to conjure up a few words about it, but because I am drawn to find more in every listen. To find more of the narrative, to move through the nostalgia and hope once again – I tire my kid brother on one such listen – so perhaps the music intended for more errr mature audiences.
Life has a way of not stopping. No matter what happens, life trudges on. And even as we tell ourselves that love is irreplaceable, we find ourselves slipping once more. We find ourselves loving, despite ourselves. We find ourselves caring, despite ourselves. And, no matter how careful we are, we find ourselves asking, once more to love and to be loved.
“Paid my dues, now I’m ready for the loving, ready for loving – no substituting.”
- Long time coming
As I write this essay I am still listening to the album. At 41 minutes long, the piece of work lends itself to a long drive, a long walk or the mindless listen at your work desk as you wait for 5pm. Packed with lyrical and musical content, this is more than the songs you play in the background and ignore – this music demands being listened to, demands being heard – again
“I need you to take me to a brand new day”
Brand new day
“Perhaps it is the role of art to put us in complicity with things as they happen”
Perhaps this is why we turn to art for the answers. When love pushes us to our knees we already know what we are supposed to do. We already know that there is little to be done. Instead we need someone to remind us that, eventually, it gets better. Eventually, we see the world as beautiful again. Eventually we love – again.
“The system adopted in Kenya is African Socialism, but the characteristics of the system and the economic mechanisms it implies have never been spelled out fully in an agreed form.”
- Sessional Paper No 10 of 1965, Part I, 6
“There are two African traditions which form an essential basis for African Socialism—political democracy and mutual social responsibility. Political democracy implies that each member of society is equal in his political rights and that no individual or group will be permitted to exert undue influence on the policies of the State. The State, therefore, can never become the tool of special interests, catering to the desires of a minority at the expense of the needs of the majority. The State will represent all of the people and will do so impartially and without prejudice.”
- Sessional Paper No 10 of 1965, Part I, 8
Perhaps the imagining of an idea must always happen at it’s purest. Perhaps there was more room to be optimistic at the birth of the nation. Whatever it is I always feel a sense of possibility when I read article from around post independence Kenya. There’s a feeling of thought and deliberateness from the collective on what things should mean/how they should be.
“The story of the Ndungu Report is one of systematic perversion of established procedures meant to protect public interest for political gain and the unjust enrichment of a few. It needs to be told.”
Still, the story itself is in the telling. It’s also around the time that these ideals were being spoken of that the country was being divided amidst anyone who could afford to be in the room (or, as legend has it, according to how long mzee Kenyatta slept).
“Corruption scandals have become a “fact of life” for many Kenyans, who have come to regard them as just another facet of Kenyan life, alongside high taxes, poor service delivery, our “cult of personality” approach to politics and religion, and the misfortunes occasioned to us by terrorism. These burdens seem to be ours for the long haul, and we seem to have accepted them, albeit half-heartedly. It is tiresome to watch or listen to the news; even being on Twitter at a time when one was not prepared for shock or disappointment can derail one’s entire day.“
- Brenda Wambui, The predictable nature of corruption in Kenya
Maybe it is the rise of report realism, maybe it is the coming out of 24 years of repression under Moi or maybe the writers are just often in a bad mood. Today’s tone is less hopeful, less believing. It’s impossible to go through the papers without sensing the despair. There is no hope, looking for hope or trying toward hope. Only a resounding cry of how deep in it we are – and how much deeper we are going.
A theory I’ve heard floating around involves institutional memory. This narrative begins with Kenya as an idea that was imposed upon these 43 peoples. Not through war, territorial battles and forging of trusted relationships are we bound, but by subjugation. In this narrative, corruption becomes a machine for the redirection of resources back to the people (idealized). Of course, in the absence of a colonial overlord, it just becomes stealing the meat from your own soup and serving it to the dogs. But institutions remember, and so corruption becomes the embedded language of the August house.
A friend writes on email,
“At some point many of the people who start off working against corruption end up in the very positions of power that dictate that they steal. Because people have failed to realize that politics is not a subjective game. You don’t come into it with your feelings and try to change it. The people who have been the greatest change factors have always done so outside of the political system – especially when the issue was corruption.”
There must be more at play here.
Another friend of mine talks about how it is not what power is but rather what it is about spaces (obligations, responsibilities and roles) and how those spaces shape us. To come up against institutional memory is to have an institution remind you what you are coming up against.
“If they want to fight drug barons if they want to fight the al shabaab, if they want to fight crime – they can do it. But they can’t fight crime, they can’t fight al shabaab, they can’t fight barons because everyone has a cut in it.”
“In a video, the angry youth called out Moha for betraying the trust they had on him by associating with the Jubilee government despite corruption scandals rocking the government from within.”
- Disgruntled Nairobi anti-corruption crusaders heckle Nyali MP Moha Jicho Pevu for associating with Ruto
“The ultimate objectives of all societies are remarkably similar and have a universal character suggesting that present conflicts need not be enduring. These objectives typically include—
(i) Political equality;
(ii) Social justice;
(iii) Human dignity including freedom of conscience;
(iv) Freedom from want, disease, and exploitations;
(v) Equal opportunities; and
(vi) High and growing per capita incomes, equitably distributed.”
- Sessional Paper No 10 of 1965, Part I, 4
Perhaps, when working towards this goal, and in defining this goal – we lost sight of what it looks like.
“We must see killability as too high a price to pay for development, for peace.”
- Keguro Macharia
And maybe we’re tired of paying the price.
“Things aren’t all so tangible and sayable as people would usually have us believe; most experiences are unsayable, they happen in a space that no word has ever entered, and more unsayable than all other things are works of art, those mysterious existences, whose life endures beside our own small, transitory life”
- Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a young poet
Life isn’t as straightforward and knowable as we would like it to be. Perhaps that’s why binaries are so convenient. In clearly labelling something as one way or the other we fail to see the cracks, between concepts – the nuances that hold our humanity.
On this site I try to write (and gather writings) about inexact things in an exact way. To catch a glimpse into that unknowable place in hope of some knowledge making its way through into the space where words exist. Where we can organise, touch and feel what the world around us. Or, at least, discover what blinds us from really experiencing the world around us.
“We who live by writing and publishing want—and should demand—our fair share of the proceeds. But the name of our beautiful reward is not profit. Its name is freedom.”
“Freedom is a multifaceted construct which extends beyond political ideology.”
Steve Hughes, Live at the apollo
“Fear will make you reveal who you really are”
In making our blindnesses known, perhaps we can work to seeing into the spaces that once represented darkness to us. Darkness, an apt metaphor for the spaces we can’t see into.
It impossible to think about darkness without thinking about fear.
Think about that feeling you get when walking down a dark street. Or the temporary panic sets in as soon as Kenya Power checks out at night. The paralysis of this fear does not come from knowledge of absolute harm but in the ambiguousness of it. The idea that harm could come at any moment creates a kind of fear that is a hyper-alertness. The absence of familiarity leaves us exposed to what we don’t know.
It is this exposure that creates fear.
“And at the end of the day,
We celebrate your protection.”
- Raya Wambui, At the End of the Day
But, to stay within the metaphor, where did the light go? In which ways are we left exposed? And whose job is it to cover those bases? Or, rather, in whom had we placed our trust to keep our vulnerabilities hidden?
“Now that I have your dreams, what would you I do with them?”
And how does being a shield against the things we are afraid of change them? To constantly face the things we turn away from?
Were these vulnerabilities ever theirs to hold?
“Perhaps now it becomes clearer that when we speak of “reclaiming our power” we are not necessarily talking about moving in opposition to something, rather than moving towards actualisation of our own will. And in order to know what our own will is we must start by trying to see the world we are trying to create – what it looks like, who can live there and how to get there. It might seem like the same thing, but is very different from simply identifying the things we do not want in the world.”
By holding sight of the worlds we are trying to create, we begin to see where we need to go, and which paths are not fully explored – where we must find the darkness, and grapple with our fear to make it to the other side. In living in those worlds, the difference in landscapes between where we would like to be and where we are becomes apparent.
And as we see this we begin to see places where we exposed ourselves – running into our own fear and looking to those who have kept us safe to keep the pace.
“You will begin to forgive when you understand the many ways in which the world has killed those who try to survive it. When you see how the scars have drawn themselves like maps on their bodies.”
And then, maybe, we will begin to see past the sayable.
“The curio shops near the Sarit Centre in Westlands will be demolished next week.”
- Curio shops in westlands to be demolished, The Star, Feb 1 2016
It was not until May 10th2018 that the curio shops in Westlands were demolished. On the day of the demolition roads were closed and the internet was abuzz with questions on nostalgia, culture and gentrification.
Amidst the continuous labour we see on the streets these days, it is increasingly easier to make peace with the transient nature of things. The feeling of coming up against a familiar landscape and finding it different is now one we are all accustomed to – whether it is taking a wrong turn on a bypass, or driving into a ditch somewhere.
“For more than 40 years, 73-years-old Mzee David Waweru traded at the recently demolished Westlands Curio Market, selling African curios, carvings and Maasai jewellery, like hundreds of other traders who worked there.”
- Westlands curio market was my life, Anyiko Owoko
It takes a certain naiveté to believe in glorified narratives. Your dad is the biggest and strongest – until you see him as another man. Or santa claus is real, until you are the one who has to buy the gifts. Sometimes believing in the dream is a product of distance from it – from what it means to labour towards its actualization. And from the circumstances that make its actualization impossible.
“Growing up in the village back in the 80’s, we often used to hear stories of this place called Nairobi better known then as the ‘city in the sun’. According to the stories the city was this fabulous place which was clean, well organized and everything worked like clock work. The buses were always on time, garbage was always collected, newspapers and even milk was delivered to your door step just like in the movies and most importantly there was no water rationing. You have to understand that back then in the village these things sounded foreign to us and made us long to visit this place called Nairobi.”
- How can we restore lost glory to the city under the sun, Samson Nderi
Eventually, it becomes easy to forget the fragile nature of freedom actualizing circumstances.
“I lost my innocence of a predictable and certain world in 1982 on the first day of August. I was 8 years old. My elder brother returned from a party on the 31st July and had turned on his portable transistor radio to catch the 6 am news. That Sunday morning, the hesitant voice of radio veteran Leonard Mambo Mbotela on VOK’s national service announced that the government of Daniel Arap Moi had been overthrown.”
- Children of a revolution that never was, Oyunga Pala
And, with a little of romanticisation, it is easy to re-member concepts that had been put aside
“To be a millennial is to believe in freedom. To acknowledge that the ideals that make up the society should not erase or ignore certain people whose existence are in/within/revolve around the same society”
- To be a millennial is to believe in freedom, Troy Onyango
“This type of informal market is vital in Kenya, where so many people lack the education needed for skilled jobs. Money spent here helps support the artisans’ families.”
Narratives are sticky. What has been said will remain as what has been said, and what is done can never come undone.
“Life is a lived experience. There is only one way to do that, to live it. To seek. To find, sometimes. To accept Trump as the clarion call to the next phase of American aggression, which might just drive us to the next war we historians will describe as the war of our generation. To accept that each generation has a purpose, and ours isn’t defined by colonialism and independence, as much as it is defined by our need for jobs, better Internet, fewer wars, more inclusion, and a more humanist approach to social problems. By rapid political transitions, a debt bomb, the traumas we inherited, and those we are inflicting on ourselves. Those are our wars, so far, and they are real. If the next generation has different wars, then so be it.”
And freedom is a multifaceted concept. What can look like revolutionary reclamation of a space in one era can serve to its own detriment in another. As the world changes, so we must change with it.
“I came here around 1976 to start my business. I found this Market here. There were traders here already.”
- David Waweru, Westlands curios market was my life
There’s something cyclical about the reclamation of reclaimed space. The city takes back to give what had been taken back because it couldn’t give.
The first time I walked past the curio space after it was demolished, I couldn’t help but feel like something significant had died. Then I remembered it was just another shade of the sunset.
(they better build that road)
“By saying, this is how the world sees me. This is what is expected of me”
“When bodies break it is not a moment but a culmination. Bodies that break tend to have been pulled, stretched twisted and torn. Bodies that break do not just break.”
We all seem to agree by now that the current imaginations of purpose have been long outlived by the modern world. Increasingly the ethnopatrichal capitalist system is being called into question. Globally curiosity has been ignited in alternatives. So much so that flat earthing almost became a thing again.
But the system itself is a thing – and things are indifferent. Building off the previous essay, things only have the power we give them.
So we must ask – what is this thing – the system? And why does it have so much power?
Thankfully, this is not labour we have do ourselves. Several liberation struggles have given language and articulation to the various ways in which this system marginalizes. And, being a system born and bound to certain imaginations of freedom, it makes sense that some bodies were given preference. It is important to note that it is about bodies, because bodies are also things that we can do little about.
A set of things working together as parts of a mechanism or an interconnecting network; a complex whole.
Even systems have a purpose. And the system for survival. For whom? That will take us back to the question on bodies, which is a whole other debate. Maybe then it makes sense that the people who have made peace with their role in the system are disproportionately resistant to change – fear is a powerful thing.
And this is even before we begin to introduce the individual human into the equation. If one was to look at the system as a well-oiled machine then it would be a matter of switching parts, keeping it oiled and regular maintenance. But the individual insists on have a conscious mind, and the need to think, feel, live and be.
So we see static unchanging roles and purposes, held in place by an outdated system and we see the wrong bodies coming up to fill the wrong functions and faced with different problems. A woman comes out as the breadwinner in a family and comes up against the sexist nature of compensation. A gentile man seeking to paint comes up against the demand to provide. The system, indifferent, identifies the bodies in a certain way and assumes peace with the function the bodies are to fill – placing the burdens as expected. Those who find themselves aligned are overjoyed. Others are at battle.
This relation shapes us.
What’s true is [that] trauma makes weapons of us. And fools, and secret keepers, and collaborators in harm. What’s true is that trauma is both singular violent events and the ongoing constant socialization of ‘power over’ for those deemed superior because of skin or penis or ability or inheritance or something else they didn’t create or do. If we are going to grow, we must embrace truth telling. We must generate our compassion. We must learn to set and hold boundaries within community, on this planet we share. We must learn what is worth our attention, and how powerful our attention is. We must get more passionate about healing than we are about punishing.
- Adrienne Marie Brown, Trauma makes weapons of all of us.
But the system is just a thing. Which is to say, to change the system would be as easy as to wake up tomorrow and say ‘from now on it shall be.’ So what’s stopping us then?
I keep going back round to this because I need it to be seen that the thing under discussion is tangible. More often than not it is like we are discussing some abstract system that exists eons away from us, but it is right within ourselves. Knowing, for example, that the system is perception bound, means knowing that the ways we have learned to see others are the things that are holding them in place. This ‘system’ is really our definitions of what roles people must fulfill in our lives.
Which makes sense because if the purpose of the system is survival then excommunication is the perfect punishment. Especially when you go into the nature of excommunication in relation to survival – it often meant death.
“It is the people we hold onto that hold onto us. As we shake people off, we too are shaken off.”
There are two things here. First, we must look at the ways in which we have trained ourselves to look at the world. The perceptions we have held and reinforced because ‘they are true.’ The people we have vilified and the people we have sanitized. There is need to shift the way we think – and this can only happen through open and honest debate. It is in the debate that we make peace with the nuance.
Second, it should be more apparent that no matter how we define ourselves in relation to the purpose our identity will be interlinked to it. Because we have only learned to see things as they have been seen and we are only seen as we have been seen, then the futility of fighting becomes apparent.
This is not to say that everything is predetermined and there is no such thing as free will.
Rather it is to say that the act of freeing one’s will must be a deliberate and, will often be, a painful task. As we refuse to become the person we are seen as people see less need in being the person we see them as (the level of peace we have made with this may vary).
“A void will always fill.”
This system doesn’t exist in a vaccum though. And survival as a purpose cannot be taken away from you. All the system did was distribute the labour (and unevenly distribute the benefits of) towards that survival. And so in freeing our will, we find ourselves differently burdened. And those who pick up the burdens we left behind find themselves differently burdened. I use differently because things trade hands, but it is difficult to speak of which is heavier.
It is this time that we take to analyse and understand these different burdens.
And it is with this new understanding that we begin to re-shape the ways in which we relate to the labour of survival. Then maybe, just maybe, we can take a shot at changing the system.